New Beginnings, Old Battles
by disco-chic
Summary: Season 4 re-"vamped."  Working draft of ch. 3 submitted.
1. Ten Minutes

**A/N:** So, anyways, here's my little farewell to Cor's character (Queen C ROCKS!) the way I wanted her story to play out. Be forewarned: it's long. It's an AU story, but leading up to this – everything's the same up to the season 3 finale. I'm changing everything else. I'm putting an M on it b/c of some things I have planned later, and I am following the guidelines to the letter. It possibly could be T+.

Apologies to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, Fox/ W/B. I know these aren't my characters, and I don't expect anything from their use.

. . . I just like to pretend I can write sometimes! : )

**Chapter 1: Ten Minutes**

_Ten_

Cordelia Chase had just spent forty-five minutes, driving a stretch of road that should have taken her fifteen – OR LESS! _Come on, come on!_ she thought. "What is with the sudden interest in ruining my moment, people?" she said aloud. Wondering when she would get out of the wallowing traffic, her thinking turned to whether or not Angel would still be there.

If she just hadn't had that vision – that stupid vision! – she would have been there by now. But, noooooo . . . the PTB had picked that moment to send something to her about a boat and night and something that looked like a box being dropped into the water. She could barely make heads or tails of it because it seemed as if pieces were missing, which had never happened to her before.

_No . . . – NO, _she shook her head, determined her notions would somehow cause him to be there_._ _He better not even THINK of abandoning me this time._

Picking up her cell phone, she called him. "Angel . . . pick up the phone," she said apprehensively. As his phone switched to voicemail, Cordelia cursed, "Damn it, Angel! I know you're two-hundred-fifty and all, but would it HURT you to move past electronic ineptness?" As she heard the BEEEP indicating it was time for her to leave a message, there was finally a break in traffic, and she zoomed around the cars in front of her.

_Nine_

_Finally!_ She thought as she pulled her jeep beside Angel's car. She was over twenty minutes late now, and she had been worried until she saw his car there. Opening her car door, she slid out quickly and half-walked, half-ran to his car and peered inside.

No Angel.

"Angel?" she called out. Pulling her cell phone out, she dialed his number. "Please, please pick up," she whispered as she heard the line connect and the first ring . . .

A cell phone was ringing. _His cell phone! _ She quickly scoped the area, trying to ascertain where the ringing was coming from. Walking toward the edge of the rocks, she wondered aloud, "How'd it get down there?"

Becoming more nervous than ever, Cordelia called out again, "Angel?" as she carefully began to climb down to the shore.

_Eight_

The phone went to voicemail. She re-dialed and felt butterflies all over her body. Her excitement was tainted by unease – and she couldn't put her finger on precisely why.

At last, she found herself on the shoreline, and she heard the phone stop ringing. She called it again. The sound seemed to echo into the night, filling her mind with its lonely sound. It stops at length, and Cordelia looked around, bewildered. She made to start in the opposite direction when she felt her toe catch something in the sand.

Her eyes travelling downward, she sees it – Angel's cell phone. Picking it up, she called out again, "Angel!" She looked up and down the beach, growing more and more confused. The only sign of movement she could see was in the distance over the ocean waves: a boat gently rocking on the water.

And then, she heard the old Plymouth crank up and roar to life.

_Seven_

Cordelia scrambled back up the rocks just in time to see his car pulling away.

Her mind took her in a dozen directions at once – and her emotions followed suit . . . _"Why did he leave?"_ – dismay. _"He left?"_ – shock. "He couldn't wait just five minutes?" – anger. "Is he OK?" - concern.

She leaned onto the hood of her jeep. For the first time that night, she didn't know what to do.

_Six_

"Havin' a hard night, princess?" a voice asked behind her.

She knew that voice . . .

"Doyle?" she responded tentatively while turning around to see the speaker.

There he stood, just as she remembered him. Dark hair, light eyes, crooked smile – completely beautiful. "Doyle!" she ran to him and embraced him hard, a laugh of joy escaping her.

"Easy there, Cordelia," Doyle said to her, but he didn't move to push her away.

"How are you here?" Cordelia pulled away and looked at him. "How is this possible?"

"I'm here for you. I've been sent by the PTB; they can do anything, you know. They need you."

Confused, Cordelia asked, "Need me for what?"

"To help humanity."

Her face scrunched up in consternation, and Doyle continued, "They're asking you to make the decision, of course. If you accept, then they're prepared to offer ascension immediately." He looked thoughtful – and a little proud, "They don't normally do that, by the way. You must've really impressed them."

"They want me to work for them? And I would leave immediately?" Cordelia faltered. "I don't know . . . I'd be leaving my friends – my _family_ – and wouldn't get to say goodbye. And then, there's Angel and – and I don't know if I'm ready for something like this, anyway."

_Five_

"Cordelia, you are ready. Look at everything you've done – you sacrificed your future when you hooked up with Angel and the rest of us. I understand from Skip the Powers were going to set you up with a great career in acting –"

"That's no great sacrifice," she said. "I was doing what anyone would have done to make the world a better place."

Doyle laughed, "No, princess, not just anyone would have done that. Besides that, you took on the visions like a champ and then allowed yourself to become half-demon so that you could carry on the mission. You changed who you were in order to fight the good fight. Humanity needs someone like you on its side up there. You are ready."

_Four_

"I don't know, Doyle," Cordelia hesitated, "And, Doyle, I think something's happened to Angel."

Doyle looked uncomfortable.

"We were supposed to meet here tonight to talk about –" she broke off, "something. I don't know exactly what he wanted to say, but it was important." She looked at Doyle. "He wouldn't stand me up unless there was a really good reason."

"He's pushed you away before, Cordelia," Doyle said gently.

"That's none of your business, Doyle!" Cordelia snapped. "This time, it's different. I really think he's in trouble. And I'm his seer – I have a responsibility to him and the rest of humanity here. On earth."

"Cordelia," Doyle began, "You have to understand that Angel is one pers- er, being." He took a deep breath, "I love him just as much as you do. But, uh, not in the same way that you do."

"Hey! Get out of my head," she smacked his chest.

Ignoring her outburst, he said, "But you have to remember, princess . . ." Doyle took a deep breath, "Angel's no more precious than any other being."

Shocked at his proclamation, and more shocked at the truth of the statement. Cordelia stared out at black waves rolling in, the boat in the distance rising and falling gently . . . she squinted . . . _something's familiar_, she thought.

_Three_

"Cordelia?" Doyle broke her concentration as he said her name. She kept gazing out at the ocean as he told her, "You've proven yourself time and time again. This honor of becoming a higher being is not lightly bestowed. However, you have to accept the responsibility, so you have to make the decision."

Cordelia warred with herself. On one hand, she knew this 'ascension' Doyle spoke of might put her in a position to do more for the world and help her to fight the good fight. On the other hand, she thought that her leaving was, in some ways, a betrayal not only to her family but also to humanity, since she would be completely leaving her human self behind.

She contemplated in silence.

_Two_

"Princess?" Doyle's voice cut into the silence. "Hate to rush you and all, but, I really am on a time clock here. I've got one more stop before I get to call it a night."

Notions crowded her mind – what if this was her calling? Her destiny? And, anyway, she didn't know if Angel really was in trouble or not. He may have run away from her, just like he had done so many times before. She would never know if she left, though . . . but something was nagging her that all _wasn't_ OK with Angel, after all – and she thought it might have something to do with that boat . . .

Damned vision! Why couldn't she remember?

A moment later, Cordelia sighed, "OK. Maybe it's for the best that I do leave now." Her eyes met his, and she said clearly, "I accept the responsibility. I will take on the task of being a higher being."

_One_

That evening, along the shoreline, couples who rested in each others' embraces as they confessed their love to each other watched in amazement as the most beautiful shooting stars seemed to rain down to earth and then fly back into the atmosphere – cosmic artistry speckling the night sky with all its magnificence.

And a boat in the distant waters started up and slowly moved away from the shore.


	2. Three Days

A/N: Thanks for reading another chapter by the disco*chic!

Apologies to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, Fox/ W/B. I know these are not my characters and expect nothing from their use.

**Chapter Two: Three Days**

Angel wasn't sure how everything had transpired before he was pulled up, but he knew he had been submerged for what seemed to be hours before his watery coffin was being dragged back up on deck.

When the heavy, metal door creaked open, he decided he didn't know how much time had passed after all – maybe no more than more than thirty minutes? Fred and Wesley were standing over him, he thought asking him if he was OK. Dazed, Angel nodded, wondering how they knew where to find him; then, he wondered if he were dreaming, his ears felt full of cotton as he tried to read their lips. Fred and Wesley went to work on the shackles.

Out of the corner of his eye, Angel saw Justine struggling on the ground, Gunn's knee on the back of her neck, his hand twisting her arm behind her back. He was yelling at her, Angel could tell, but he couldn't make out what was being said, the sound being muffled.

He saw Connor in a desperate battle with – was that Faith?

The salt water continued to drain from his ears, although very slowly. One of his eardrums, he was certain, had burst on the way down. The other hissed dramatically as the membrane stretched to its normal size. He felt his body become adjusted to one atmosphere, his eyes and joints uncomfortable for the first time since he was turned into a vampire. The shackles were finally off, and he was helped to his feet by Wesley.

Angel looked hard at Wesley and pushed him away, but not as violently as he could have. Faith and Connor were in the midst of a vicious display of kicks and punches, and Angel wondered briefly who would come out of the fight victorious. Despite Connor's poor decisions, Angel couldn't help feeling proud of his son as he watched Connor take on the Slayer.

Fred came round his front and mouthed something. He stared at her, dumbfounded. Again, her mouth seemed to form words, and he was confused. He turned his attention once more to his son doing battle with Faith, watching her dodge a blow to the head, watching him dance away from a kick to the knees. Angel felt dizzy suddenly and almost fell, but Wesley was there, grabbing onto him, supporting him as he turned to Fred. He mouthed words that had little sound.

Wesley knew Angel needed to eat; he was thankful Angel had been found quickly, even though the find was completely accidental. There seemed to have been a beam of moonlight in the midnight sky that flashed underwater just as they crossed this very spot. How it happened, Wesley didn't know, but what he did know – he didn't know how, but he _just_ _knew_ – this was the place. He was grateful for small miracles. "We have to get him below deck. The supplies are below deck. He needs to eat, and soon," Wesley told Fred. "Help me."

Fred immediately slid her slight frame underneath Angel's other arm. The two humans slowly led the vampire down into the bowels of the boat, away from the action, toward safety and nourishing blood.

"That all you got, small fry?" Faith taunted Connor as she easily avoided a kick to the chest.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Connor retorted angrily as he lunged at her and grabbed at her elbow.

Faith laughed as she spun into his grasp and shot her elbow, hard, into his temple then simultaneously brought both hands up behind his neck and kneed him in the face, cracking his nose and causing blood to spill. "Haven't had this much fun in a while, Charlie Brown," she said as she backed up and away from him, readying herself for another attack. Faith was impressed with his agility, but she also knew she was just toying with him. She wouldn't put him down, though, until she got tired of the game.

Gunn yelled at her, "Stop yanking the football and finish it! We still have to find Cordy."

"We didn't do anything to the woman –" Justine struggled underneath Gunn.

"Shut the fuck up, Molly Ringwald! She was coming out to see Angel –" Gunn was cut off.

"But we didn't –"

Gunn leaned over and punched Justine, hard, in the face, rendering her unconscious. "I told you to shut the fuck up," he could barely contain his anger and gave an extra, angry push into her neck as he stood upright. He grabbed onto her and dragged her limp body toward the steps leading to below deck. For a minute, he actually considered pushing her down the steps. He reconsidered when visions of him having to carry her around after breaking a leg crowded his thoughts. Muttering to himself, he lowered her down a step at a time and yelled back over his shoulder, "When you get done messing around with Toys for Tots, come join. Cordy's still out there somewhere."

"Aye," Faith took a kick to the side, but she retaliated with a round house that contacted with Connor's neck, "Aye, Captain!" She smiled. This fight still wasn't over.

… … …

Below deck, Wesley and Fred worked diligently to defrost and warm up the three ten-gallon buckets of blood. Wesley figured that, with Angel being gone for less than a week, the hunger wouldn't have begun deteriorating his mind yet – twenty gallons should be more than enough to set him back to rights. He had brought the extra ten gallons, though, just in case.

"OK," Fred drawled as she lifted the first plastic container full of warm blood, "this one's ready." She crossed to Angel and held it out to him. "Here, drink up," she said as he reached for the container.

"I can't hear you," Angel said, a little louder, he thought, than he intended. He wondered how long it would take for his ears to get back to normal, especially since he hadn't eaten in a while. _But_, he thought, _it shouldn't take too long now, since I've only been under for a few hours_. He gulped down the warm blood.

Wesley handed two more containers to Fred, and Fred began to chatter, "Oh, well, that's probably because your ears didn't adjust to the rapid pressure change, but you'll heal. It'll just take a bit. But probably not too long with your healing metabolism. Is there such a thing as a healing metabolism?"

Wesley took the empty container from Fred and told her, "He won't heal as quickly as you think he will, due to the fact he has been submerged for three days."

Angel nearly spit out the blood as he recognized _three_ _days_. "I've been under for three days?" he asked.

"Yes," Wesley responded, then turned away. "Three days, twenty hours, and sixteen minutes to be precise."

"Wesley," Fred said quietly, "I don't think he can understand us."

"I can't hear you," Angel said loudly.

Wesley nodded, and he reached into a duffel bag. He pulled out some paper and a pen and and began to write: _You need to drink a minimum of fifteen gallons of blood, more if you can – you haven't eaten in a while – now you're injured and need it even more._

Angel nodded as he finished reading.

Fred stood and began warming more blood.

"Hey, Wes," Gunn said from the opening to the steps, dragging the unconscious redhead. "Got us something to detain this one?"

"The cuffs are in the bag. I had a feeling she would try something, so I brought several pair along," he said as he directed Gunn toward the black duffel in the corner. Gunn hauled Justine to the corner and searched through the bag. Wesley wrote on the paper and showed it to Angel: _Where is Cordelia?_

Angel immediately went on alert and responded, "What do you mean, 'Where is Cordelia?'"

Wesley scribbled hurriedly: _Dennis hasn't seen her for four days. Jeep found at shore, her cell phone nearby. No trace of her anywhere. They must have done something to her._

"Look what the cat's draggin' in!" Faith announced as she strong-armed Connor down the steps and into the room.

Before anyone could blink, Angel had pinned his son against a wall, his forearm pressing on Connor's esophagus. "What did you do to Cordelia?" he whispered, barely containing his anger. Connor struggled and pushed back, but Angel responded by pushing harder, "Answer me." His eyes were black and focused, his jaw clenched tightly.

"I left her there that night. I don't know where she went. Probably came to her senses and got far away from you, filthy demon –" Connor fumed.

Only hearing bits and pieces of what Connor said, Angel shoved his son into the wall again. "You listen to me. Anything happens to her, and I'm holding you personally responsible. Faith."

Faith was at his side quickly with cuffs Gunn tossed to her during the father-son reunion. She roughly pushed Connor to the side and cuffed him around a steel pipe in an uncomfortable position, "Stay," she told him and then turned to face the rest of the group.

Wesley said to Gunn, "Take Fred and prepare to weigh anchor. We still don't know how many were involved with this project, and we don't know what's happened to Cordelia. She may be dead already. She may be dying. They may be holding her hostage – there are just too many variables. We need to get out of here and back to the hotel so we can formulate a plan."

"We're on it," Gunn nodded at Wesley.

Fred followed Gunn up the steps.

Wesley handed Angel another container of blood, which Angel gripped tightly before gulping down. An awkward silence passed between the two men.

Angel was the first to speak, "Thank you, Wesley."

Wes was silent.

"I don't know how you found me, but thank you."

Wes nodded and wrote on the paper: _Owed it to you._

Another period of silence. "I'm still not ready to forgive you," Angel said as he looked into the container.

_Didn't think you would._

Angel read the writing and then looked Wesley in the eye and said calmly, "I don't know if I can ever forgive you for what you did."

Wesley sighed heavily and then wrote: _Your decision. Other things more important than my forgiveness right now._

"Are you kidding me? This guy did me a favor by handing me to a real father instead of a cold-blooded killer!" Connor yelled out from behind Faith.

Faith responded, "Shut up," and punched him in the gut.

"Yo, English!" Gunn called from the top of the steps.

Wesley crossed to find Gunn staring down into the hull. "What?"

"We got everything ready up here, dog. What next?"

"Start the engine up. Have Fred take position starboard to keep watch; you take the port side. We don't know if we've been followed – I'll be right up to steer," Wesley yelled up to him.

"You got it," Gunn yelled back, and he was gone.

"Faith!" Wesley called from the steps.

"Yeah, boss?"

"You have prisoner duty. Make sure they don't cause any trouble this time."

"Aw – weren't no trouble," Faith flashed a smile toward Connor. "Just a whole lotta ass-kickin' fun on my end."

Wesley approached her quickly, "I'm serious, Faith. We need to locate Cordelia. Anything may have happened, and we don't have time to play games."

"Chill, Wes-man – I've got it covered," Faith tried to reassure him. "I could take both of them with my hands tied behind my back – especially if that's all this Connor kid has got. You sure he's Angel's kid?"

"Faith," Angel said loudly just behind her, startling her.

"Geez, Angel – don't sneak up on me like –"

"This isn't time to play around. We don't know what may have happened to Cordelia, and I'm not going to tolerate –"

Faith sobered immediately and glared at Angel and Wesley. "What the fuck, guys? You think I can't handle a serious job? You think I don't know how to get with it? You know what? FUCK YOU," she said forcefully and flipped both of them off. "I'll get my job done. You do yours, and we'll be keen."

Wesley nodded and headed up to the helm just as the engine sputtered to life.

Angel looked at her for a long time before he sat, elbows propped on the table in front of him, forehead bowed in his hands.

"Angel," Faith's tone softened as she turned a chair around and straddled it opposite Angel. She tried to get him to look at her. "We'll find her. Somehow, we'll find her."

"You'll find her just so that monster can kill her!" Connor spat out at them.

Faith grabbed a mug of coffee and threw it as hard as she could at Connor, narrowly missing his head, "SHUT THE FUCK UP DEMON CHILD FROM HELL!" The mug shattered as it hit the wall behind him, sending fragments in all directions, coffee spraying over the floor.

"You'll see. He'll betray you. All of you," Connor sneered.

Angel kept looking at his son, not knowing what he was saying, but not oblivious to the venom that laced his words. He turned to Faith, "I'm going up. I can't be down here with him right now."

Faith nodded, never taking her eyes off of Connor. Angel ascended the steps, metallic steps echoed in the tiny room. Soon, everything was silent again. Faith tore her eyes away from Connor and stood up, looking around the room. Picking up a piece of rope, she sat down in the chair again, put her feet up on the small table, and leaned back. She began tying knots of various kinds, trying to keep herself occupied.

Connor opened his mouth.

"You say one more word, and I don't care if your Angel's kid or not – I'll rip your goddamned tongue out of your head," Faith calmly said.

Connor closed his mouth and looked away.

"Damned teenagers," Faith muttered as she heard footsteps on the steps.

Gunn appeared seconds later, "Faith?"

"Yep!" she looked up.

"Angel needs more blood, but he doesn't want to sit below. Sent me to get it. Where's the stash?"

Looking around, Faith located the ten-gallon buckets, "Here they are." She hefted one up and passed it to Gunn; then, she handed a plastic tumbler to him. "Once he gets done with that one, there's still another one down here."

He took the bucket and cup from her, grunting as he felt her let loose of its weight – _damn! Girl's strong!_ "Got it. And, Faith?"

"Yeah?" she looked at him expectantly.

"Thanks. We couldn't have done this without you," Gunn's face conveyed his gratitude.

"No prob," Faith started, "I owe Angel. And Wes – especially Wes." She looked out and away from Gunn, feeling uncomfortable.

"I better go – Wes can be bossy, and Angel's still not forgiven him yet –"

"Say no more – I'm on prisoner duty down here. Holler if you need me!" Faith said. "Hey, Gunn!" she called to him as he started up the steps.

"What, girl?" he turned back.

"Who the fuck is Molly Ringwald?"


	3. Home Bittersweet Home

Chapter 3: Home Bittersweet Home

Two Hours

Wesley strode into the Hyperion, followed closely by Gunn who half-carried and half-dragged the still unconscious Justine. Gunn threw her carelessly to the floor near the desk, her head hitting the marble tiles hard.

"While I don't really care if she lives or dies, she is useful to us at the moment. At least until we determine what she knows about Cordelia," Wesley said to Gunn.

Gunn shrugged, "Sorry, man." Then he looked blankly at Wes, "She slipped."

"I'm sure," Wesley replied. Then, he made his way to Cordelia's desk and began rummaging around, looking for anything that might indicate where she could have stopped on the way.

Gunn glanced at the door. The others hadn't made it in yet. "You think Faith needs some help?"

The sound of scuffling feet and grunts filled the room when the doors banged open, followed by, "Bitch!" and "You think I'm bitchy now?" and a rough growl. Faith held tightly onto a struggling Connor as they made their way into the lobby. In the middle of the stairs, Connor twisted his bound arms, and when Faith moved to counter him, he jerked back and was free. He wheeled on her, bitter fury in his eyes. She slammed her forehead onto the bridge of his cracked nose, eliciting a cry of pain and new oozing of blood. She shoved him backwards, and he fell hard onto the marble tiles, landing on his back.

"How's that for bitchy, piss ant?" she taunted. "If you were smart, you'd make this easy on yourself. Good thing you're not smart. More fun for me," Faith smiled wickedly as she reached down and grabbed him up roughly. She dragged him out of the lobby toward the basement.

Gunn and Wesley stared after her.

"Damn. That girl got skills," Gunn said with amazement.

Fred and Angel appeared in the doorway, with Fred trying to help him balance and Angel brushing her off. He promptly tripped over the threshold, still unbalanced from the hole in his eardrum. Fred threw up her hands and sighed as she looked at Gunn and Wesley. "He's just so stubborn! Why do I even bother?"

If the situation had been different, Gunn and Wesley would have smiled, maybe even laughed a little.

"I heard part of that," Angel retorted. "I am not stubborn. You're bossy."

"OK! Enough with the character analysis!" Wesley shouted. "We have a more pressing matter at hand."

The telephone rang. And rang.

"Fred, get the phone, please, while we try to piece together the events leading up to – " Wesley began, but then noticed Fred had already answered it and proceeded to discuss with Angel the events leading up to his being lowered into the bay.

"Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless and helpless and – oh! Lorne! Oh my gosh! You are just the – what? You have to go? But you don't – Fluffy? Why do you keep asking about Fluffy? No! Don't hang – " Fred looked at the receiver in her hand. "He hung up."

"So, you saw her or you did not see her?" Wesley's jaw was taut.

"I told you – I did not see her. But I felt she was there before we drove off," Angel's hearing was slowly coming back, but he was still having to read lips mostly.

"If you didn't see her, man, you can't be sure she's alive at all," Gunn said cryptically.

"No. She was alive," Angel insisted.

Gunn almost yelled at him, "You don't know that –"

"Hate to break up this nice little pow-wow and heart-to-heart and all, but I just got the strangest call from Lorne," Fred butted into the conversation.

Wesley's face registered shock and then realization. He and Angel turned to face each other; together they said, "Lorne."

"Yeah. It's not the first time he's called either. It's just the first time he's called where he's talked with someone for more than a minute. Or for that matter, someone who is not the answering machine, not that the answering machine is a someone . . ." Fred rattled on.

Gunn glanced around their little group and asked, "You think the lounge lizard can help us?"

"He may be the only hope we have," Angel replied.

A crash was heard downstairs and a round of curses from Faith – or possibly Connor. Wesley strode over to the unconscious Justine and hoisted her up and over his shoulder. "You three go. It will be easier if I don't. Not to mention that Faith could probably use a little help." He started toward the basement.

Angel, Fred, and Gunn watched him disappear into the basement as an awkward silence overtook them.

"Let's roll," Gunn finally said.


End file.
